


Why Are We Always Sooner Than Later?

by Sei_chan



Category: Fate/Grand Order
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Miscommunication, Other, Past Relationship(s), Regret
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-07-31 20:50:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20121478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sei_chan/pseuds/Sei_chan
Summary: Bedivere risks his life to save Tristan in battle, but his efforts are met with ridicule and ungratefulness .





	Why Are We Always Sooner Than Later?

**Author's Note:**

> This work was inspired by this art found in here https://www.pixiv.net/member_illust.php?mode=medium&illust_id=64595062.
> 
> I swear ever since I saw this short comic I really wanted to base a story around it with all the feels and angst. I have finally done it!
> 
> This story is not canon or faithful to any Arthurian legends (because I'm too lazy to read and there's shit load reference that I don't even know where to start) and maybe it's a little bit different in fgo setting as well but well I can only do so much. 
> 
> Kudo's to my friend who had been patiently constructing some of the scenarios and paragraphs for me (If you guys found a good paragraph it's her work). I cannot live without you!
> 
> This is still not beta'd. Apologies for the strange english and bad grammar.

A slapping sound echoed in the area making everyone stop whatever they were doing and looked back at the source of the sound. It was Tristan who looked really angry and Bedivere who was holding his head down with a red sting on his cheek.

"I'm not so incapable that I wouldn't be able to save myself!" The archer seethed at him.

Everyone was surprised at the situation but Ritsuka had tried to diffuse the one-sided argument but the two are not listening.

Tristan was angry at Bedivere about getting injured when he shielded Tristan earlier from an arrow during battle and he was being chided that he should have priorities their masters safety instead of trying to save him All throughout Bedivere's just kept quite with a deep frown on his face. Not even meeting Tristan's gaze.

"Stop doing unnecessary things!" he hissed in contempt which was met with silence. When the archer saw that Bedivere had no intention of talking anytime soon he turned his back on him, the conversation was over. 

"Is it because you have both arms now?" Tristan mumbles. Bedivere immediately looked up at Tristan, wide eyed and an expression of mixed horrified and hurt painted on his face. He opened his mouth to say something but before he could even let out the words he wanted to say the archer had already long walked away without giving him a chance.

The rest of the group simply watched with dumbfounded and tense look on their face. Either not wanting to get caught up in their argument or just surprised from the scene. When Ritsuka had somewhat recovered from his surprise, he dragged Lancelot on the side and chided him. "I thought you said that both of them." he said in a whisper

"They are!" Lancelot defended but he had a sheepish smile on his face that doesn't say he was sorry at all. Then he added: "but I might have forgotten to consider their current circumstances"

"What do you mean?" Ritsuka inquires.

"Don't worry about it master" Gawain interjects "They're just feeling really anxious and insecure at the moment. Just give them some time and they'll fix it themselves"

That had somewhat assured Ritsuka. But it only lasted for a few days. 

"Are you sure that we should just leave them be?" Ritsuka asked for the umpteenth time since the morning, worried that ever since the incidence the two weren't talking and they're avoiding each other like a plague, or well Tristan does. While Bedivere looked like a kicked puppy every time Tristan walks out, he's quite pitiful. 

The incident between the two knights had been bothering him so much and in return he kept bugging Gawain and Lancelot for answers non-stop. It would be easier to just ask the people in question but Ritsuka didn't know how to approach a sensitive topic.

"It's fine." Gawain shrugged his shoulders "They'll talk to each when they're ready. It'll be more counter productive if you force them."

"In the first place why do you mean that they feel insecure?"

"Well it's a bit of a long story. And honestly I didn't realize this back then as well when we were still alive. About those two, even if they don't admit it, they rely on each other both in and out of the battlefield."

"I'm getting more confused." Ritsuka groaned

"To start with, Bedivere and Tristan was never really close with each other. They're neither close friends and just simple acquaintances who happen to serve the same king yet before anyone knew it they always fight side by side." Lancelot added.

"When Tristan left the court I never understood why Bedivere didn't do anything to stop him but now that I think of it, he might've been relieved that Tristan left."

That just left Ritsuka with more questions and confusion. Why was everyone being cryptic about this?

/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

"...then I'll be the replacement for your lost arm..."

Bedivere clenched his hand against the junction of the stump of his arm and the silver prosthetic, sitting on the edge of his bed, feeling the sting of the wound that had been supposed to be healed a long time ago. No, it was not the injuries that hurt, it was the awful memory of helplessness when he lost his arm in the past and the burden he placed on his comrades.

Bedivere absently rubbed his shoulder, remembering the pain of the flesh that was slashed by the blade. In truth, he'd already notice the enemy charging at him from behind. The enemy soldier had been so close, Bedivere could've cleaved the male's head from his shoulders without breaking his rhythm. But something had distracted him. Or rather, someone...

Since he was just a boy he had been trained to fight. Not only did rigorously trained to build his body and perfected his swordsmanship, He had also honed his instincts sharper.

Making all those split-second decisions of either moving to the left or right, of how he need to move in a duel or war; it is something that has been inbred so deeply in him that Bedivere trusts his instinct wholeheartedly. It's what has gotten him so far in life; what has kept him alive throughout the war, and what has kept him alert when he's carrying out his duty as a Knight.

By no means did Bedivere meant to belittle Tristan, nor did he not trust him enough, but when finds himself in a situation where they were surrounded by a battalion of enemies, unable to deal a fatal blow before he saw an archer let loose an arrow aimed at the red head's blind spot, his instinct propels him to mindlessly throw himself in front of Tristan, shielding him from harm.

Clearly, in that moment, he had completely forgotten that they were spiritual beings, no longer bound in the mortality of a living flesh, any fatal wound can be easily healed so long as their spiritual core wasn't broken.

All he had in his mind in those seconds were so wrapped up in regret and self blame, he never wanted to burden Tristan anymore than he did in life, that was why he decided on not fighting near Tristan where they could watch each other's backs like they used to.

Just how selfish could he get?

A light knock on his door made him snap out of his thoughts, the soft mechanical noise echoed inside the room as the door smoothly slid open.

"Bedivere?" Ritsuka called out, his brows knitted in concern "Is it alright if we talk?"

Out of Ritsuka's suggestion, they went to a different place to have their talk. They sat facing across each other in the lounge.

"Sorry" Ritsuka said apologetically "Dragging you here with me."

"It's no problem master." the saber servant shook his head and assured him "If I may ask, what did you want to talk about?"

Ritsuka opened his mouth to speak but immediately closed it again, he was uncertain about his next word, well, rather he had approached Bedivere without thinking in the first place. Now that they were here he had no idea of what to say. The silver haired male watched Ritsuka being conflicted. He was so young and he was already carrying the weight of the future in his shoulders. Even so he couldn't help himself but worry about them.

"Is it about me and Tristan?" Bedivere started for him.

The young magus looked as if he was a deer caught in the headlights. After he collected himself he gave him a nod. "To be honest, I heard something from Gawain and Lancelot but they didn't really tell me anything to make me understand the situation. Simply told me that it was not their story to tell." 

"No, it's alright master." he said, there was a sad smile on his face "I guess it all started when I lost my arm in a battle...."

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

The battlefield is a cruel and vicious place, filled with unimaginable horrors. Every person must maintain the highest level of situational awareness in order to keep their men, fellow soldiers and themselves alive. In the heat of battle, every moment counts. Life-altering decisions are made in seconds, and sometimes with devastating consequences.

Bedivere was no exception to that.

Even though they had just won the war, he couldn't him bring himself to rejoice not only because of the dreaded premonition of more cruel wars that would come to Britain but he was in agony and suffering from extreme pain because of his permanent disfigurement.

It was frustrating!

He was one of the first knights of his King, Arhtur. Not only he was her friend that had accompanied even long before she draws out the sword of selection, he was also his right hand man. The pride he used to feel at the intent of those words now came with a sting at its unintended reference. Even so he still desired to serve his King in whatever way he could, but given his new limitations, he feared he would end up as ineffective as the emptiness at the end of his right arm. He felt so useless.

It was a hectic time during his recovery. There was another war brewing and while he was not drifting in and out of consciousness because of the high fever, he was always on the edge of breaking down from all his self pitying. To his surprise, it was Kay, out of all the people to beat him back to his senses.

Of course, Bedivere, at that vulnerable period, had lashed out at him in a rush of anger. Thinking that the man might used to order him around but he had no right to dictate what he should do. He didn't know what Bedivere had lost, or how adrift he felt.

Even despite Merlin's sagely advice to him that time about the cycle of life, that he was not the only one-handed warrior to exist and told him tales about the northmen stories of 'Tyr' and the first king of Tuatha De Danaan, Nuada of the Silver arm. Well at least he did not understand what he was talking about at that time.

Everything he thought he was and his future was put in question. Arthur, his king and the kingdom he swore to serve to serve and protect, yet there he was, incapable of doing the most menial of things. What possible role could a cripple had in a land of warriors?

"Look, Bedivere, I know this is sudden, for all of us. The changes on our lives had happened so fast. All I'm saying is, Arthur needs us, now more than ever before. I don't know what lies before him, before all of us. But you and I are his family, his closest companions. I never thought I would hear myself say this about my annoying little brother, but he has always been the best among us. Whatever happens I plan on supporting him and doing everything in my power to stand by him. But if there is anyone he needs more than me, it is you, and you know it." Kay surprised him. That one speech showed more depth than he had ever seen from him before. He knew Kay was right.

It was time to step up out his self-pity and find his place. He was not dead yet, and he would damn make sure he wasn't going to be any time soon. Bedivere recalled the time when he watch Arthur draw excalibur, in the glory of that moment he had decided that time. Where he went, Bedivere would be by his side.

But things were always easier said than done. Especially with Bedivere's current condition.

Once he was well enough. Kay had forced him to train fighting using his left hand. He was never gentle with him and was relentless despite Bedivere's protest, he did not stop until his limbs gave out. He knew that the older knight was doing this for his sake. Despite the soreness, training with him had pulled him away from wallowing in self pity and more ways than one it had help him release his frustrations.

But as it dragged longer without signs of improvement. It seemed that no matter what effort he put it'll never be enough.

Bedivere might be crippled but he was not blind nor was he deaf. The people looked at him with pity and judgement. The -loud- hushed whispers and the sneering of the other knights that he should have just be relieved from his post due to his disfigurement. In those times, even though he had doubts if they were right. The only thing that was making him stubbornly hold on was that his King still needed him. But does she really?

It was another long night after his training with Kay where he was beaten to black and blue, again. He was sitting under the tree, his back leaning against it's sturdy trunk. Bedivere's legs ached, his stump felt tender, everything was hurting that he wanted to scream with agony and anger. His body felt like it was burning from inside despite the cold of the impending winter. He reached the sword beside him with his left hand and picked it up. It still felt so wrong and awkward in his grip.

Bedivere hears a faint footsteps heading towards him. He wasn't sure if he was hallucinating or not which was why he didn't bother to look up to see who it was until that person stopped in front of him. Even with his vision hazy, he could still make out that familiar scarlet hair of Sir Tristan.

"Does the wound still hurt?" he asked.

In pain and irritation. Bedivere didn't answer. Instead, he glared at the red head in front of him for asking the obvious, yet Tristan remained unfazed, his expression still blank and scrutinizing.

"No..." he corrected "I didn't mean the wounds. Does it hurt to lose an arm?"

Bedivere was suddenly lost for words. A lot of people had tended to him during his recovery. His friends and family saying consolatory words and assuring him that everything will be alright. Even Kay who had been pushing him to the limits. He and Tristan was never anything other than acquaintances. They were just two soldiers who serve their king. It was so ironic, out of all those people, Tristan was the only one to ask how he felt.

Tristan was saying something more but he was not listening to his words at all.

"I have a request." Bedivere spoke without thinking "One more... Please fight me."

With just a single decisive swing of his sword, Bedivere was disarmed once more, the sword flying into the air for a few seconds before it clattered into the ground.

"Stop this! With only one arm...No. With that body even while withstanding the pain. There's no way you can continue fighting." Tristan said "Isn't it enough already? Even if you continue fighting you'd only fail."

"I..." Bedivere muttered, he picked up his sword once more. His legs trembled over his weight as he took his stance. "Even with this body. Even if I'm crippled. For the king..." his heel dug the ground beneath him as he lunge towards Tristan "I WANT TO PROVE THAT I STILL HAVE USE TO OUR KING!"

The redhead was too alert and too agile for Bedivere to flank him: he would never catch him off balance. Plus it was hard to move quickly with his fever and sore body. Their blades met with a loud ringing of metal.

"In that case." Tristan glared at him with his amber eyes. It was the first time Bedivere saw the knight looking so infuriated. His sharp gaze made him look much more menacing compared to his usual tranquil beauty with his lips pulled down in a semblance of a scowl. "If you manage to to give a single hit on me..."

The screeching metal rings on their ears as their sword locked against each other, both trying to overpower the other. "Then I will be the replacement for your lost arm!"

Tristan insert more force in his grip as he swung his sword to parry Bedivere. The blades producing a piercing sound as it collided once more. Both retreated from each other at a safe distance.

Bedivere didn't think much of Tristan's words at that time. His body was running high on adrenaline and his mind's single focus was to win the fight. The silver haired knight took a deep breath as he tightens his grip on the sword. He advanced swiftly, it was an all or nothing desperation, confidently this'll be the last blow.

Tristan held his guard and made no attempt to evade him, he planned to intercept his sword once more. When Bedivere was a yard away from the knight, for a moment he saw Tristan's expression suddenly falter but Bedivere couldn't be sure why when everything had suddenly turned into a blur.

The last that he could remember was a line of steel flashing towards him and the loud clanging of metal against metal before he lost his consciousness.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

"That's how it all started." Bedivere said solemnly as he finished recounting the past, "It's because of my selfish desires that had put so much burden on Tristan."

How had Bedivere been so blind and did not realize it at that time that throughout those times Tristan's support has become an anchor for him that had kept him grounded. Now that he was looking back, he couldn't even deny how self serving he was.

If not for that promise they won't likely be close friends with each other. The two of them were too different. He never truly understood him. But unlike Agravaine and the others whom he never warmed up to, it was impossible not to like Tristan. It was because the archer always gave his own heart so readily.

And Bedivere had took advantage of it. He kept on taking from him while giving him so little. 

He remembers those long sleepless nights and during the times they were preparing for war, when everyone was too restless and wary to even rest. He and Tristan always talk at length at what lay before them. He remembers the resignation and sadness in his voice yet choose not to see them in those moment. Bedivere had come to know too damn well how Tristan was in love with life yet circumstances of their time had put a sword in his hand and had cast him in the same role of giving death to others. Even more so at Bedivere's side.

No matter how many battles, no matter how many wars they've survive through. Tristan's hands would begin to shake as he watches the aftermath of the battle, holding onto his bow so painfully tight until his hands would bleed. Even as knights, the act of taking one's life is still heavy, but even maybe it had felt heavier for Tristan. All Bedivere could do for him was to hold him tightly until he stops trembling.

Only when everything was gone did he saw his mistakes and errors. He wished that he could've done more for him, and for everyone as well.

"Then why did you never stop him from leaving?"

"Because I thought that it would be for the best. That way he can somehow be free." he answered. But how he was so wrong. He shouldn't have let him leave. No, in the first place he should have realized that something was eating at Tristan the whole time when he was the one closest to him. He didn't even know that Tristan was suffering from a poison and his body was slowly succumbing to it when he let the court.

He was just so unreliable and pathetic. He never deserved the archer's friendship.

/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

Tristan stood quietly in the corner, his arms crossed against his chest with his back leaning against the wall where he wouldn't be seen. It was only a coincidence that he saw both Bedivere and Ritsuka talking with a serious look on their face and decided to eavesdrop on them.

Listening quietly as Bedivere recount their past with an expression as if the world was going to end soon. Which is quite literal in their situation with all the singularity. But still...

"...that stupid idiot." he muttered to himself as he silently walk away from his hiding spot. Even hundreds or thousands of years. Clearly, even until now Bedivere still didn't understand him.

/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

Bedivere found himself standing in front of Tristan's room just a few minutes after his talk with Ritsuka. He didn't know what exactly to say nor how the young magus had actually convinced him to go there and finally muster the courage to talk to Tristan.

He stood there in concentration, trying to come up with what to say when....

"What are you doing?" Bedivere jumped in surprise when someone spoke from behind him. He spun around and found Tristan. "Looming around in front of my door with a doom and gloom face. You look like a creep."

Bedivere's face bloomed red in embarrassment "I-I'm so sorry!"

When Tristan didn't say anything back to him Bedivere's shoulder was a tense, averting his gaze from the archer and there was just silence between them.

Tristan sighed just from looking at his friend who held an expression of a kicked puppy. He sighed heavily and opened the door to his room "Come in." he gestured for him.

"Eh?" Bedivere looked up at him

"You came all the way here to talk right? There's something that I also wanted to talk about."

Out of nowhere once the door closed Tristan suddenly materialized his bow and began attacking him in such a narrow space. Bedivere had no choice but to retaliate and fight back, then things happened so fast, Bedivere had lost his balance when he was kicked on his side and Tritan had somehow manage to steal his sword from him and stabbed him on his left arm, effectively pinning him on the floor. The archer straddled on his stomach and his feet stepping on his prosthetic arm to prevent bedivere from moving.

The injury was not fatal but it was still painful enough for him not to be able to move without causing him pain and with an injury like that he could feel like mana was slowly draining away from his body.

"What are you-" he was about to protest when Tristan folded his sleeve and cut his arm letting the blood flow out and let it drip onto Bedive's mouth. He was transferring his own mana to him through his own blood. But why?

"Stop!" he said but Tristan wouldn't budge. He glared up at him but his anger died for a moment when he saw his friends pained expression and realized that Tristan's grip on the blade was trembling

"Tristan!" Bedive finally snapped at him. Not caring about the sword piercing at his flesh, he grabbed Tristan from the back of his head as he and make him look at him eye to eye "If this is you being mad at me then I'll accept it! But why are you hurting yourself as well? Isn't all of this already painful as it is?"

Tristan chuckled. He shifted his position that he no longer pinned the saber down but he was still sitting on top of him. "Yes, it's very painful." he muttered, removing the sword making Bedivere groan in pain but the wound quickly healed thanks to Tristan's blood. The sword had long dematerialized.

Still Bedivere still didn't move. Not with Tristan looking so sad as he traced the edge of his prosthetic arm. He looked as if he wanted to cry. "Even though this is a body that you had earned after having to suffer hundreds of years wandering in solitude. Thinking about the loneliness and things you went through, yet you still want to keep fighting all alone even though I'm right here." his words trailed off "It makes me so sad."

"Tristan..."

"I know I'm being a hypocrite for still wishing that things would somehow be the same between us even though I was the one who heartlessly leave everyone in the first place." Tristan sniffled a sob. "I was happy seeing people I know here. Especially when you came... I don't even care whether you were the Bedivere who serve the king as the same knight in the round table or if you are the man who had been disloyal to our king and traveled in solitude for hundreds of years. You are still my dear friend, Bedivere." 

Tristan slumped forward, resting his head against his chest and clutching tightly at Bedivere's clothes. " Is it too much to ask... even if I was the one who left first... that we can't be the same, that I still want to fight with you again even if you no longer need me as your right arm? Am I really someone so weak and unreliable to you? Someone that can't stand by your side to fight. Or is it because you hated me for breaking our promise and leaving."

Bedivere was wide eyed in surprise. He had never thought that Tristan wanted to fight together again despite every wrong that he had done him. He never even thought that this was how Tristan thought nor did he realize that maybe he was just as anxious as him if not more. Tears started to well in his eyes his chest suddenly felt much lighter. 

It wasn't only him who wished for it.

"Do you know how painful it is..." Tristan continued as he pushed himself up and looked at Bedivere, there were tears pooling in his amber eyes. A vulnerable side of Tristan that he rarely showed to anyone. "I could have handled it and I would've never say a word. You not wanting to be by my side and watching you fight your battles alone, but then you just have to go and get hurt for my sake by trying to protect me... If you're mad at me, say it! If you want to leave me be then completely cut me off! Don't bother taking a blow for my sake! JUST WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME, BEDIVERE?"

"I'm sorry." Bedivere propped himself up using his elbow, he tucked Tristan's hair behind his ears, how did he missed at how much he had hurt his friend by selfishly deciding what would be much better for him without even asking what he wants first.

"I'm sorry." he whispered once more, he pulled him closer, embracing him and letting Tristan lean his forehead onto his shoulder as he caresses his red locks. "I had never hated you. I just selfishly thought you'd be better off not being by my side without even considering how you felt. I didn't even realize that I'm making the same foolish mistakes that I did in the past." 

"It's like you're still on a long journey of a thousand years, fighting all alone." Tristan said, his voice a bit muffled until he looked up Bedivere again with pleading gaze "Why can't you see that I'm here."

"I'm sorry." Bedivere repeated. His left hand trailing down to the archers cheek and Tristan couldn't help but lean on the warmth of his touch on his skin as if he was craving for touch. "Thank you for everything, Tristan."

"I'm sorry too." Tristan whispered back. They held each other as if to reassure themselves.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

The battlefield is a cruel and vicious place, filled with unimaginable horrors. The sky itself looked as if it was burning with the color of red, it was filled with sorrow and despair. Black smoke from the war fires covered the entire horizon bringing with it the unbearable stench of death. Tristan never liked wars and he would never do so in any lifetime.

In the heat of war, every moment counts. Life-altering decisions and sacrifices are always made, not only those in the upper echelon but for soldiers too, no one was exempted and sometimes it came with devastating consequences. But if a soldier is brave, and perhaps a little bit lucky, he might just save the life of a beloved comrade.

Tristan was neither brave or lucky.

Even with all the dizzying chaos in the midst of war. Tristan's aim with his bow was unparalleled but it doesn't mean he doesn't hesitate. Everytime he nocked an arrow he felt heavy thinking that he would be taking someones life and on more than one occasion had his aim missed.

And he wasn't even the one who paid the consequences of his mistakes. Had Tristan not hesitated for a few seconds then the enemy soldier would have not been able to kill more of their allies nor would Bedivere had to suffer for it.

In the midst of that chaos. He stood there in the rear lines, dumbfounded as he watched everything unfold before him, everything was slowing down in that moment as if to mock him to imprint that moment in his mind. The consequences of his hesitation. It was a vicious battle. Casualty could never be avoided, there would always be death in war from both sides. No one would blame Tristan for a missed shot or two but the guilt had never let him rest.

If Bedivere had decided to leave the court then Tristan would support him in anyway that he could as an atonement for his mistake. That had never happened though.

Bedivere kept struggling and standing up. Tristan had been watching the whole time in silence from the shadows. How he'd struggle and kept on training with Kay despite still on the long road of recovery and his body already ragged everyday from all the beating. How he'd deal with all the sneers of other knights. Tristan couldn't understand why he was being so stubborn and found his actions rash and foolish.

It was painful to watch him.

And it didn't take long enough for the archer until he couldn't stand it anymore.

That why he had approached him that night. He wanted to convince him to stop, that it was already enough, he had done more than what a normal man can do. That continuing on struggling for his stubborn pride as a when he was already cripples would only get him killed sooner. He would convince him to live his life more peacefully.

Instead, to his surprise Bedivere challenged him to a duel for some reason.

Tristan accepted. He somehow knew from watching him that it would come to this. If he could not convince him through taking then he would just show it to him that he was no longer fit to be a knight. Yet, no matter how many times he disarm him and show him how incapable he was, Bedivere wouldn't yield.

It made him frustrated. That everytime Bedivere picked up his sword and continue fighting, Tristan was losing hope that he could convince him and at the same time he couldn't help but admire the knight and his unwavering and unconditional loyalty towards their king.

Maybe that was why he said those words to him.

"I'll be the replacement for your lost arm." It was a rash statement due to the heat of the moment but it was not one that he regrets.

At that moment. They both know that anymore than this fight would lead a heavier burden on Bedivere's already fragile body. And Bedivere himself had decided to end it. Tristan had made his resolve, if Bedivere truly managed to give him a hit he would honor his words and if not he would end his suffering right there and there. Consequences be damned.

When he saw his normally gentle eyes burning with fierceness he found himself captivated, he froze on the spot and reacted too late when he parried his strike. Both their swords flung in the air from the impact. Effectively disarming them both.

Their swords hit the ground, ending the battle to a draw. Bedivere collapsed and Tristan's hand moved on it's own to catch his limp body before it could hit the ground. Only when he felt the warmth of the other's feverish temperature did he let go of the breath he didn't realize he was holding.

He still couldn't shake off those last few seconds.

When he looked down on the silver haired knight, Bedivere was already asleep. "You're too damn persistent." Tristan muttered to himself. Unexpectedly he didn't feel any negativity instead there was a growing warm fondness for the silver haired knight. 

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/.

Maybe all of this started because of Tristan's guilt and his wish for atonement which had grown into a completely different feeling. But if one thing that Tristan was completely sure of. He had never once found himself Bedivere as a burden, in contrary, he might have been the only person who had somewhat kept him sane in those times of war and agony. The friendship and trust they had for each other was something Tristan always held special in his heart even when they parted.

And he had clung to it so desperately even until.

His anxiety, his insecurity, his regret. It had already begun when he was on deaths door along with the realization of his true feelings and it had been further grown when he saw Bedivere with the silver arm that Merlin had granted him. He couldn't admit that was just simply scared that he was being left behind, even though it was him who had left first, he can only swallow that bitter pill and not say a word. Not even knowing what to do. 

He should have known better that he was completely no good hiding his emotion and in the end he just lashed it out to the man himself.

"Tristan." Bedivere said softly, his hand brushing lightly at his face, tracing from his cheek to his chin making the archer shift and look at him. They lied on the bed facing each other with a blanket thrown over their tangled legs.

"I don't think that we'll be able to go back to how things used to be. Even as summoned servants, I'm no longer the Bedivere who had let you leave. But right now," Bedivere said pressing their foreheads together "Once more as friends, as comrades and most of all as equals. I swore to fight with you by my side."

Tristan smiled at him warmly, cupping Bedivere's cheek with his hand "It's a promise, Bedivere."

"Promise." Bedivere whispered back. 

/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

"Great job everyone!" Ritsuka announced when they had finally finish a quick sortie. It was a big accomplishment to their master despite it being an easy one. After all, both Bedivere and Trisatn seemed to be finally in their element. Moving in each others space comfortably and efficiently during the battle.

Tristan knew that Ritsuka was aware he shouldn't really be snooping about the servants personal situations but he couldn't help but give in to his curiosity, and thus approached Tristan. 

"Have you finally resolved things with Bedivere." he asked Tristan

"I think so?" Tristan hummed

"You think so?" Ritsuka repeated indignantly "Why do you sound unsure?"

"Because I don't think we'll ever completely understand each other." 

"Then you two haven't completely made up with each other."

"We did at least resolve that problem. But I think we'll have more misunderstanding in the future. So we'll be troubling you a bit master." Tristan chirped. Ritsuka gave him a confused look but since it looked like Tristan was having fun so he just let it be, letting his attention go to other servants.

"What did master ask?" Bedivere approached from behind. 

"He asked if we finally made up with each other." Tristan replied not bothering to turn around and look back at him. 

"Oh. We must've really worried master with our problems." Bedivere noted, feeling a bit guilty.

"Bedivere." Tristan called

"Yes?" 

"The two of us are really never great with communication." Tristan noted with fondness. He leaned back trusting that Bedivere will be there to keep him from falling on his back. "Even now there was still a lot of things that we couldn't properly convey to each other. But we're alright like this, right?" Because despite knowing each other for years, he and Bedivere is just bad with being honest with their feelings and they kept misunderstanding each other. Added with their bad habit of assuming things and deciding what they think was best for one another. Not really a healthy thing for any sort relationship. 

"Yes." Bedivere smiled fondly at Tristan as he let the archer lean his back onto him "There's still a lot of time for us to. We should take it slow to try and understand each other this time."


End file.
